CÂINE

‘What is it?’ Gheorghe asked, poking at the pieces with the end of his pen.

‘Bones, stripped bare of any flesh.’ answered Mihaela, the forensic officer in charge of the scene.

‘Human?’

‘Canine.’

Small blessing, Gheorghe thought. He had worked for the UN at the end of the Bosnian war. He had seen mass graves of human remains. Still, it was a crime and he was the detective on call. The tip-off had been anonymous.

He tried to pick a fragment of bone up. It crumbled in his gloved hand.

‘Brittle. They’re disintegrating.’ Mihaela remarked.

‘What would do that to bone?’

‘Hydrofluoric acid. Tests will tell us for sure.’

‘How many do you think?’

‘Looks like a few thousand, if each container had one inside it. We’re still opening them.’

Gheorghe turned away from the pungent chemical smell. It stank, but not as much as the scandal he had stumbled into the middle of.

The Mayor of Bucharest had promised to rid the city of stray dogs.

Now Gheorghe knew how he had done it.

Copyright Yarnspinner

Written as part of Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. The challenge is to write a flash fiction story in around 150 – 175 words, based on the weekly photo prompt. Thanks as always to the challenge host Priceless Joy. For more information visit HERE.